


In the Bloodline

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Character Death, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos and the new King of France discuss fathers. (Coda fic for 3x09)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bloodline

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "Can I read something with the dauphin and Porthos? Pretty please!" 
> 
> Then I made the mistake of trying to write this from the dauphin's pov, which was a challenge - but a fun one! But definitely a challenge.

The entire day has been a strange one. He’s never gone to so many places at once before and it’s a little exciting and certainly overwhelming. He’s hungry. And he misses his mother and father. But then – he won’t see Father again. Nobody’s told him so, but he’s heard it between the adults around him. Sometimes, they forget that he can listen. Sometimes, they forget that he is listening. 

Father is dead. 

But the Musketeer Captain told him to be brave. He can be brave. And later, when the other Musketeer tells him to run, he runs. The Minister picks him up, and he knows the Minister so it’s okay and they’re running and there’s fighting and gunshots and it’s all too loud. He doesn’t like loud noises, never has, and this—

He’s handed off and sits on a horse. There’s talking around him. More gunshots. It’s loud. He doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to go back to that quiet house with the kind women and sleep more. Then, they’re riding away. He hears sharp sounds behind him but he doesn’t know what they mean. The horse moves swiftly through the field and off into the forest. He’s never heard so many different birds at once, aside from when father would shoot them with the dogs. Sometimes Father let him watch. This, though, is wilder and stranger. The horse gallops on.

The musketeer behind him is steady, leading the horse. He doesn’t speak. But that’s okay. He doesn’t really like to talk that much, either, especially around strangers. He likes listening. And he knows that being brave means getting away from the gunshots for now. He can do that. It’s a silent ride, aside from the horse’s sounds and the birds’ songs, and the gunshots fading behind them until he can’t hear them even when he strains to. 

And then, behind him, the man sobs. 

Louis twists around to look as the horse slows. They’re deep into the forest now and the man isn’t looking at him, pressing a hand to his face, the heel of his palm pressing to his clenched eyes. His face is twisted up, an ugly sort of face that he knows well. Mother always says that his face twists up when he cries but that it’s okay to cry when you’re sad. So it’s okay if he’s crying, too, he thinks. He’s heard sobbing before. He’s cried a lot. Father has cried, too, when he thinks Louis isn’t listening. This, though, is a heavier sound. He watches as tears slide down the man’s cheeks. 

He’s upset. That much is clear. He isn’t sure what to do. He reaches out and touches his arm, pats gently. That’s what Mother does when he’s sad – hugs him close and rubs his back. The man is too tall for Louis to hug him and he’s a stranger and it’s difficult to know what to say. He’s shy. He doesn’t really like talking. When he’s sad, though, Mother pats his back and the top of his head. But this man is too tall for Louis to pat his head. So he’ll have to pat his arm. 

_What’s wrong?_ he wants to ask but doesn’t. It’s okay. He hates it when people ask him that when he’s crying. It’s embarrassing. He pats, somewhat clumsily, at the man’s arm. 

The man wipes his eyes and blinks rapidly. His eyes are puffy and red. He grunts, looks embarrassed, and shakes his head. He scrubs his hand over his face one last time and then back into his hair. His hands are shaking. He looks like he wants to keep crying. Maybe he’s embarrassed to cry in front of Louis. He understands that. He gets embarrassed crying sometimes, too. 

“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” the man says, trying to comfort. It’s strange that he should try to comfort him when he’s the one crying. But then, Louis hates it when Mother looks upset because he’s upset. So he thinks he understands. 

He waits, patiently, for the man to speak. He feels uncomfortable, seeing a grown man crying like this. It’s different than with Father. This man is a soldier. He’s big and strong. They’re outside. 

“You’re sad,” he says when he means to say, _Why are you crying?_

But the tears slide down the man’s cheeks without shame now. He spurs the horse forward. The horse makes a sound that makes Louis jump but the pace is much gentler, a little trot, and they bob around through the trees. 

“I just had to say goodbye to my father,” the man says. Louis is surprised he’d say the real reason. Usually he isn’t told. Usually he’s told that everything is fine. 

Louis contemplates this. He doesn’t know who he means, but he must mean the Minister. They had a long look before riding away. He didn’t realize this man was the Minister’s son. He looks down at the man’s hands, gripping the horse’s reins now. He knows he must be crying not because of a regular goodbye. It must be a real goodbye. The gunshots were very loud behind them, before. 

“Oh,” he says. He reaches out and pats the man’s hand, since he can’t reach his head. “Mine too.” 

It’s the most he’s ever said to someone who isn’t Father or Uncle, or even Mother. It’s a little strange to say it. But it feels important to do so. He also had to say goodbye to his father. It’s very sad. He thinks, if he were home with Mother, he’d be crying right now. But he has to be brave. 

There’s a hitching of breath behind him and the horse slows. The man jumps down off the horse and scoops Louis up in turn, holding him as he guides the horse to hide off the path they’ve taken. He’s held close, and he’d rather be set down on the ground. But the man isn’t letting him. He’s holding tight to him, close and protective. 

“It’s okay,” he tells the man. “You can cry.” 

The man actually smiles at this, which is strange. “You won’t tell anyone, eh?” 

He wipes at a tear on his cheek and Louis watches him. And then he nods. He promises. The man smiles again and then ducks his head, his shoulders shaking. Even though it’s sad to see a man cry, Louis’ glad he could help. He’s good at keeping promises. Mother said so once. 

The man leads him into the forest. By the time they make it out, and go back to Paris and back to Mother – the man has stopped crying. There’s no indication that he ever did. He sets Louis down gently and he runs to Mother’s arms. He looks back at the man as he lowers into a bow towards him and Mother. 

This is his first clear memory of General Porthos du Vallon.


End file.
